


captured like a photo in your mind's eye

by sugartina



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F, Faberry, Oneshot, butts are discussed, quinn is nervous and attracted and altogether a bit confused, some point in the far future, tattoo artist!quinn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-01
Updated: 2016-08-01
Packaged: 2018-07-28 13:54:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7643176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugartina/pseuds/sugartina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rachel poses nude.</p>
<p>Quinn doesn't really know what to expect, really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	captured like a photo in your mind's eye

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Lea's recent photoshoot for women's health. I don't know how to process it so, neither does Quinn.

“You certainly look. Happy.”

“Happy?”

Quinn kept her eyes firmly on Rachel’s face. The photographic Rachel, that was, rather than the Rachel next to her, buzzing with her usual energy. “In this one,” she carefully pointed at the first photo, fingertip brushing the smoothness of the LCD screen, “You have a great smile. Plus, your hair looks great, flowing down your back like that.”

“What about the next one?” Rachel’s own eyes, brown, a little amused, were darting between Quinn and the pictures on the screen.

“You’re sitting down,” Quinn managed, aware of a prickling at the back of her neck, a warmth on her cheeks that she _damn well_ hoped wasn’t manifesting itself as a blush.

A laugh left Rachel’s lips, and Quinn glanced over, watching them form into a smile. It was different from the one on the screen, smaller, a twitch of Rachel’s eyebrow making it seem a little devious even.  “I wasn’t aware.”

“I mean-“ Quinn was definitely blushing now, she realised, which made it worse “-You look really good. Like, really good.”

“Correct answer,” Rachel beamed. “I’m pretty proud of my butt.” Rachel tilted her head slightly, considered. “Is butt childish? I mean, I’m hardly British – I feel as if bum, or arse, wouldn’t really fit my Broadway dialect.”

Quinn, grateful for the distraction, turned to face Rachel completely, realised she wasn’t any less distracting than her photos. “You’re from Ohio.”

“And yet, my voice was forged on Broadway, even before I moved there. It was true destiny,” Rachel countered, not missing a beat, “But anyway, ass seems so crass, you know? And rear is too posh, even for me. Rump doesn’t work either – it’s hardly the main course of a delicious, tender, meal.”

“I’d hope not.”

“So butt,” Rachel nodded, “Butt works.”

“It’s cute,” Quinn said, then regretted, “I mean, um,” she almost stammered, growing ever more flustered as Rachel grew ever more amused, “I just remembered that time you got all anxious about that student film. I’m not judging – you know I never would – but, what changed?”

Rachel had to think about this, furrowing her brows in concentration for a moment, reflecting. After a few seconds, she spoke, “I think I’ve just grown. I mean, a shoot where I have full control is a little different from some second year’s squalid coursework.” She nodded, affirming her own words. “Plus, I’ve gotten so much more confident since then. I mean,” she leant forward, conspiratorially, “I even sometimes walk around my apartment naked. Like, not just between shower and my room.”

Trying not to imagine that, and failing, Quinn returned the nod. “I’ll carry that secret to my grave.”

“Okay,” Rachel tapped Quinn’s arm with her knuckles, softly, “Now you’re mocking me.”

“A little,” Quin admitted, with a soft smile.

Rachel returned the smile, hand brushing down Quinn’s arm. Hesitantly, she held it against Quinn’s palm, before linking their fingers, squeezed lightly.

“It was a good idea, right? I mean, in a couple of hours, these will be all over the internet. Everyone will see that butt.”

“It is a _very_ nice butt.” Quinn murmured.

“Maybe I should invite you along next time.” Rachel glanced at her friend. “I could see you doing that. Hair like one of the old film stars. ‘Darling,’ you’d say, ‘Mind if I smoke? I know it’s _so_ terrible, but it takes the edge off.’ Yes, you’d fit wonderfully.”

“Now you’re the one mocking!”

“Only a bit. You would look good, even without you being a massive hipster. Which you are.”

Quinn laughed at that. “Oh, completely. I’ll get them to play Foals or something.”

“Only on vinyl.”

“Only because they won’t have a cassette player,” Quinn played along, finding it easier than ever. Then, “I probably wouldn’t pose for a magazine. Maybe an art class, though. Lay back, watch people immortalise me. Live forever in drawings.” Her voice had become wistful, and she realised she wasn’t joking.

Rachel paused. Smiled. Leant her head on Quinn’s shoulder. Surprised, Quinn wrapped her free arm around Rachel.

“I was thinking of getting a new tattoo,” Rachel finally murmured, silence parting with her words.

“Oh yeah?” Quinn asked, ideas already forming and unspooling in her mind, picturing endless patterns across Rachel’s body.

“Something simple. A small flower, or something. Or a star – I know it’s typical of me, but the metaphor still stands.”

“I can always give you advice. I mean, I do kind of do it for a living.”

Smiling at this, Rachel shook her head. “I was actually wanting you to do it. If, if you’re comfortable with that. I know you usually don’t know your clients.”

Quinn’s eyes went to the side, as she remembered. “Usually, but I’ve done a few for my friends. Santana’s rib, Blaine’s back, Tina’s leg.” She gave a confident smile – this was her realm. She could handle this. “Where did you want it?”

“My butt,” Rachel said, a little embarrassed.

Quinn’s eyebrows raised. “Um.”

“Again, only if you’re comfortable. It’s one of the reasons I showed you these photos-“ she waved in the general direction of the computer monitor, screensaver already kicked in, “-I wanted to prepare you. I know it’s been a long, long time since we shared showers after glee club.” And we weren’t on the best of terms, hung the unsaid, but Rachel ignored that.

“No, no, I’m. I’m comfortable,” Quinn murmured, honestly. “It’s just an ass. A great one, but. And it’s hardly as if you’re getting Barbra’s face on it.”

“As much as I clearly adore her, that adoration has limits.”

Laughing, Quinn relaxed again. “Whereabouts? I mean, just so we can think of designs, and start planning – oh my gosh.”

Rachel had slipped out of the hug whilst Quinn was distracted, her back turned to the artist. Her shorts were almost completely off her butt, as was her underwear, and she pointed to a small spot, midway down her left cheek. “There,” she said, having thought long about it, then. “Uh, Quinn?”

Quinn had been _just a bit_ distracted, but snapped out of it. She’d tattooed butts before. _Just not Rachel’s._ “Yes, that’d look. Wonderful. Black outline, perhaps?”

“Yes, just to match my others.”

“When do you want to?”

“Oh, I’m sure you’re very busy, so there’s no rush,” Rachel said, waving her hand, “I wouldn’t want to take time out of your other clients.”

Rachel still hadn’t covered up, Quinn was noticing, before “Rach. I run a tiny parlour in New York. I basically always have free slots.” She breathed, tearing her eyes away, knowing she didn’t need to stare any more, not wanting to be inappropriate. “Especially for one of my best friends.”

Finally standing straight again, pulling up her shorts, Rachel beamed, turned, and pulled Quinn into a hug. “I’m glad we _are_ best friends.”

Quinn was taken aback for a moment, then returned the hug, eagerly. “So am I.” She smiled into Rachel’s head, the light fragrance of berries – of course – wafting from her hair. “I really am. Lord, imagine what our past selves would think of this? Me, tattooing this butt,” Quinn whispered, wanting to preserve the quiet of the moment, daringly brushing the back of her hand across said butt.

“Well, I rather think I’d have thought I’d hit the jackpot,” Rachel admitted, grateful to the hug for hiding the flush on her face.

“Jackpot?”

“You were a cheerio. Bit of a jerk, sure, but stunning, confident, intelligent as Hell, much as you tried to hide it. Quite the catch.”

Quinn breathed deeply, suddenly aware of how close they were hugging, feeling Rachel’s own breath against her neck. “You said the tattoo was one of the reasons you showed me those photos. What was the other?”

Rachel moved her head back, but stayed in the hug, looked into Quinn’s hazel, at the softness of her lips, the curve of her neck. “Can I?” She asked, moistening her own lips with the tip of her tongue.

“Of course you can,” Quinn breathed.

Leaning forward, Rachel’s lips met Quinn’s, flesh pressing together. They tilted slightly, the feeling so new, yet so instinctive, all at once. After a moment, Rachel’s lips parted, and Quinn, ever more daring, ran her tongue between them. In response, Rachel sucked upon Quinn’s lower lip for a few moments, before finally breaking apart to breathe.

“I like that reason,” Quinn finally said, with a smile.

“I thought you might.”

“But.”

“But?”

“The, the connective,” Quinn clarified, “Not your rump.”

“Just wanted to make sure. I feel as if you have a thing for it.”

“Maybe a little,” And Quinn didn’t blush this time, smirked instead, “But my point is, I think you need to emphasise your second reason more.”

Rachel grinned.

Their lips met again, Quinn’s hand gently squeezing upon soft butt-cheek, and this time, they didn’t break apart.

 


End file.
